


Come Back To Me (For The First Time)

by Kayim



Category: Primeval
Genre: Blow Jobs, Character Death Fix, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-26
Updated: 2012-02-26
Packaged: 2017-10-31 18:29:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/347119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayim/pseuds/Kayim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Abby and Connor return through the anomaly, they brought someone else back with them.</p>
<p>Set at the beginning of season 4.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come Back To Me (For The First Time)

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to Fred and FiFi for their awesome beta and hand-holding skills. This fic is dedicated to everyone over at Primeval_Denial who have welcomed me into their fandom with open arms and smut-filled minds!

While Becker tried to move on after Abby, Connor and Danny were declared missing, presumed dead, there was a part of his mind, locked deeply away, that refused to give up completely. Each time he heard a noise from a distant lab he hoped to see Abby or Connor fling open the door, and when the security alarms went off in the ARC, he wished more than anything that Danny would come running down the corridor, grinning at him.

But even that small part of him was stunned when he saw the three bodies on the floor in front of the anomaly.

He stepped past the rest of his men, coming to a stop in front of them. Despite the year that had passed, Abby and Conner were unmistakable, their faces burned into his mind. They looked up at him with identical smiles. Simultaneously they reached their hands up towards him. Sliding the rifle over his shoulder, Becker held tight and pulled them up into an embrace that held a year's worth of apologies and forgiveness.

It was the third person that concerned him. The other man was younger than Danny, his hair dark instead of the reddish-blond that he remembered, but there was a familiarity about his face, as though he'd met him before. The man got to his knees, his eyes looking to Abby and Connor for reassurance. Abby grinned at him, while Connor held his own hand out to help him up.

Connor brought him over. "Becker, I'd like you to meet Stephen Hart."

\- - - - - - - -

There weren't any procedures for debriefing a member of your team who had been considered dead but had actually been living in a prehistoric era, but Becker was starting to suspect that it might be a sound idea to put one in place.

Stephen hadn't been able to explain how he'd survived, other than that an anomaly had opened just behind him as the predators started to attack. Without thinking, he'd jumped. Something had prevented the creatures following him through, but he didn't know that at the time and had just run. He'd survived deep in the middle of the Pliocene by himself for over a year - a feat that both terrified and awed Becker. The details he gave about that period were brief, as though he had locked away the worst parts and refused to reveal them. At this point no one was intending to push any harder, although Becker couldn't help thinking that might change soon.

Eventually he'd found another anomaly, ending up at a place he and Connor described as spaghetti junction. From what they'd explained, it was a location where there were hundreds of anomalies in one place, acting like a switchboard through the timeline. Stephen hadn't known which of the anomalies would lead him home, so he'd tried as many of them as he could. After thirty or forty, one had taken him to the Cretaceous, where he'd seen signs of human occupation. Knowing that there shouldn't have been anyone there, he'd explored further, discovering Abby and Connor. 

The three of them had made it back to the junction and spent the next two months trying to find an anomaly that might lead them home. 

"Can I help you, Captain?" 

Becker hadn't even realised that he was staring at the other man. Or, he thought, that he'd followed him into the locker room. Stephen was sitting on the floor in front of the lockers - Cutter's locker, Becker noticed with a jolt - with his long legs stretched out in front of him. His eyes were red and Becker didn't need to ask to know what was wrong.

He cleared his throat and shook his head. "Sorry, I was just thinking."

A brief look flashed in Stephen's eyes at the apology and Becker understood that had this been Connor or Danny, there would have been a sarcastic comment in reply, and he wondered how close Stephen had been to that automatic response. 

"I guess it's not every day you see someone come back from the dead."

Becker laughed. "In this place, I doubt anything would shock me anymore."

"Good point." Stephen ran a hand through his hair, longer than it had been in the photo clipped to the front of his personnel file, and glanced around. "I don't suppose I can scrounge some decent clothes from somewhere, can I?"

He was wearing the same dark blue tracksuit that Abby and Connor had been given, but he looked even more uncomfortable in it than they had done. He was tall and slim, and the outfit hung loosely on his body, making him look like a criminal in jail, rather than a heroic scientist returned from the dead. Becker did a quick assessment in his head and decided that Stephen was probably about the same height as him. "I've got a spare pair of jeans and a couple of t-shirts you can borrow."

"That'd be perfect. Thank you."

Becker retrieved the clothes from his locker. By the time he turned around, Stephen had already stripped down to his underwear, a pair of well fitting plain white boxer briefs. Very, very well fitting, Becker thought as he held out the clothes, receiving a smile in exchange.

Stephen bent down to pull the jeans on and Becker tried to keep his mind in professional mode. 

"So I suppose things must seem a little strange to you here." Becker wanted to slap himself on the forehead for making such a ridiculous statement. The man had been lost in a prehistoric era for nearly eighteen months. Of course things would seem strange to him now. 

Becker blamed his idiocy on the sudden rush of blood that was making its way to a particular part of his body as Stephen wiggled his hips slightly to pull the soft denim over his hips. Luckily Stephen didn't seem to notice either how stupid the statement was, or how warm it seemed to be getting in the room.

"Government conspiracies never seem to change."

"Sounds like you've been talking to Connor," Becker replied, grinning. He'd missed some of the more ludicrous theories that Connor had tended to come up with. He'd never quite noticed how much he missed either Connor or Abby until they weren't there anymore. It was going to be good having them around again. 

Stephen turned around to reach for the t-shirt on the bench. "He never changes either, does he?"

"The world might end if that happ…" Becker's voice trailed off as he noticed the huge jagged scar that ran down Stephen's back. It ran from the top of his right shoulder-blade diagonally across the expanse of his back, dark red, as though the blood was bursting to escape, and curled at the last moment around the left side of his waist.

"A souvenir from the Pliocene," Stephen explained, twisting around to look at as much of it as he could, running his hands over the edges. "I remember Helen once telling me that getting breakfast in the Cretaceous wasn't easy. I never anticipated just how difficult it might be to separate a Titanis from its eggs."

There was a slight hitch in his voice when he said Helen's name, but other than that, Becker noticed, his voice remained calm. Becker knew enough about field medicine to know that a wound like that could well have killed a man in a modern environment - he'd seen enough injuries in Afghanistan to bear testament to that - and he wondered how the hell Stephen had survived it with no antibiotics or medical care. 

He recognized the name of the creature Stephen referred to. Although he'd not been there to help – and he held himself responsible for that too – Danny, Abby, Connor and Sarah had fought off a pack of the creatures when they were on the run from Johnson's soldiers. Becker shuddered at the thought of Stephen having to deal with even one of those himself.

"Does it hurt?" Becker had already taken a step towards Stephen with his hand outstretched before he realised what he was doing. He stopped, jerking his hand back down by his side.

"Not anymore. It did. For a long time." This time his voice was less calm, quieter and filled with a fear that was followed through by a shudder. "I actually thought I was going to die." 

Becker couldn't find the right words to respond. _I'm glad you didn't_ seemed both understated and a little inappropriate for someone he'd only just met. There was a pain in Stephen's voice that made Becker want to pull the other man into his arms and keep him safe. 

The room was filled with a silence as Stephen tugged the navy blue t-shirt over his head, covering up the scar. Becker became unnaturally fascinated by a spot on the floor and stared at it intently, unsure whether he should even say anything, or if he should just walk away.

Before he had the chance to decide, Stephen spoke, all traces of the earlier discomfort gone.

"Look, do you know a decent hotel or somewhere I can stay for a few days? Lester's provided me with a credit card, but I'm assuming the rental agreement on my flat has lapsed."

Becker didn't even think about it before answering. "You can stay in my spare room if you want."

Stephen smiled and the air between them seemed to lighten. He laid his hand briefly on Becker's shoulder, squeezing slightly. "That'd be great. Thanks mate."

\- - - - - - - -

"So Connor and Abby filled you in on everything that happened since you… since you…."

"Since I died?" Stephen laughed. "Yeah, it was a pretty good way to pass the time. Not much to do between anomalies."

They were sitting on the sofa in Becker's house, about twenty miles from the ARC. Becker had bought it not long after starting work with Cutter, realizing that he needed a way to wind down away from the rest of the team. The most extravagant thing he'd purchased was the 50" flatscreen TV that he'd had fitted to the wall of the lounge. He didn't watch much TV, other than the occasional rugby match, but his idea of a perfect relaxing weekend was one spent watching movies and eating take-out food.

Being the gracious host, he'd offered Stephen the choice of what to watch and where to order food from, pleased when the other man had selected the original Terminator film and Dominos pizza. Half a stuffed-crust pepperoni later and they were dissecting the movie - Stephen complaining about the time travel paradoxes and Becker snorting in amusement at the weaponry. 

As far as evenings off went, it was probably one of the better ones Becker had experienced. A couple of beers each had allowed them to relax, putting most of the earlier awkwardness behind them. Becker's question had been the first time they'd even discussed what had happened since leaving the ARC.

Stephen put his beer bottle on the floor next to him and turned around to Becker.

"I need to ask you a question."

Becker shrugged, the look on Stephen's face warning him that this wasn't a _who would win in a fight between…_ type of question. "Sure."

"After Cutter… Did you look after the others?"

He wasn't asking if Becker had watched out for their safety, he knew that. He was asking more. He needed to know that someone had stepped into the role he would have played if he'd been there.

"Connor took it hardest," he said, closing his eyes against the memory of seeing Connor carry Cutter's body. It had been like one of his own bad dreams. "For a while I didn't know if we were going to get him back."

"That's what I was afraid of. Neither of them said much about what happened afterwards. They told me all the dry facts, but there was obviously something they were holding back on."

Becker couldn't imagine how that conversation had gone. The thrill of finding out that their friend was still alive, and then having to tell him that his best friend had been killed. He considered Abby and Connor - as well as the rest of the team - his friends now, as well as colleagues, but he knew that there had been a special bond between the original four members. A bond that had been irreparably damaged when Stephen had died, and which had shattered after Cutter's death.

"They had each other though." It was a statement more than a question.

Becker nodded. "I honestly think that might have been the only thing that got them through." 

The memory of those few months still plagued him now. He'd felt almost completely useless, unable to offer the right words to any of them. The army had taught him how to be a soldier, how to fire a gun, and how to kill people. It had never taught him how to comfort the ones left behind. 

He wished that Stephen had still been around. It was obvious from the way Abby and Connor circled around him that they relied on him. More so than the way they felt about Becker. Oh, he knew that they trusted him to drag their arses out of danger and that they considered him as much of a friend as he did them, but they didn't need him as much as they'd needed Cutter or Stephen.

"Stop it." Stephen reached down and picked up his beer, tipping his head back to finish the bottle in one long drink.

"Stop what?"

He put the empty bottle back on the floor, his hand wiping across his mouth to catch the stray drop that had escaped. "Thinking that you aren't wanted now I'm back."

Apparently living in the Pliocene also provided a person with limited telepathic abilities.

Becker opened his mouth to reply, but Stephen leaned over and put a finger on Becker's lips. Becker had to bite back the urge to suck Stephen's finger into his mouth and run his tongue over it. 

"Listen to me, Becker…" Stephen's voice trailed off for a moment, distracted. "What the hell is your first name anyway?"

Despite the finger that remained on his lips, Becker smiled. "I don't know you nearly well enough for that little revelation," he said, the words muffled slightly.

Stephen shrugged, his eyes widened and he looked carefully at Becker as if to say _Don't worry, I'll figure it out later_ before returning to his earlier point.

"As I was saying, _Captain Becker_ , I only know what Abby and Connor told me while we were stuck there. And both of them - repeatedly - told me how great you were, and how many times you'd saved them from various catastrophes. They said the team would have fallen apart without you."

With Stephen's finger still on his lips - and showing no sign of moving anywhere else - Becker wanted to argue the point, but he knew that Stephen was probably right. 

He sighed heavily, leaning back against the sofa, reluctantly breaking the contact between them both.

"I need another beer," he said after a moment, pushing himself up. "Do you want one?"

"Sure. I'll give you a hand."

The wooden floor was cool under Becker's bare feet and he heard Stephen's footsteps follow him. He wasn't sure it required two of them to carry two bottles of beer from the fridge, but he guessed that after being alone for so long in the Pliocene, Stephen probably just didn't like being by himself.

Pulling out the two bottles from the fridge, Becker turned around and handed one to Stephen. "These are the last ones, I'm afraid. Wasn't expecting a house guest."

Stephen took the offered bottle and stepped closer until he was almost nose-to-nose with Becker, his beer bottle held loosely by his side. Becker took a step backwards, hitting the fridge.

"Look, I'm hoping I'm not misreading you, but I've been getting some pretty serious mixed signals since I got back." Stephen's voice seemed to have lowered an octave, his usual melodic lilt now sounding far more predatory. 

Becker swallowed and allowed himself to make a gut decision. "Not misreading anything." 

Making his statement even clearer, he slipped a finger into the belt loops of the jeans Stephen wore ( _his own jeans, and wasn't that a damned turn on in itself?_ ) and pulled him closer until their bodies were flush against each other. 

"Good. Because I've been either by myself or with two people I consider family for the last god only knows how long and I could _really_ do with getting rid of some of this built up tension."

With a moan, Becker snatched Stephen's beer bottle back and dumped both of them unceremoniously on the work surface next to him. He slid one hand around Stephen's neck, pulling him in for a kiss, while the other one slipped around his waist and under the edges of the t-shirt.

The kiss was hard and dirty, filled with a desperation that Becker didn't want to think about. Stephen's hands were never still, roaming across Becker's body, grabbing at his arse, pulling on his hair, sliding up and under his shirt. Every touch felt like a tiny electrical shock building up in Becker's body. He felt Stephen's skin heat up beneath his fingertips as he explored whatever bare flesh he could find. 

He pulled away from Stephen's mouth reluctantly. "Not in here," he mumbled against the moans of protest from the other man. "Bedroom."

Stephen gave a pout, his lips red and swollen and raised his eyebrows. "Make me, soldier boy," he teased.

"Fuck." 

Becker pushed Stephen back, considering the possibility of just giving up and stripping Stephen naked right there in the middle of the kitchen. But he wanted more. He stepped towards Stephen, slamming him hard up against the opposite wall, closer to the door. The shelves rattled and the sound of glass breaking came from inside one of the cupboards, but Becker couldn't make himself care. He grabbed at Stephen's hair, tugging his head back, exposing the slender throat that Becker had been watching earlier. 

He licked along the length of Stephen's throat, feeling the vibration of a moan from the other man as he worked his way back up towards those lips. More kissing, discovering the taste of each other, and then it was Stephen's turn to move them. 

He pushed against Becker's body, forcing Becker to walk backwards, never breaking the kiss. It was, Becker thought foggily, the most erotic bloody thing he had ever experienced. It was as though Stephen was man who had been drowning and Becker was the air he needed. It was heat and passion and trust and need.

They stopped in the main room, Stephen unsure which way to go. He broke the kiss, looking around. "Too far," he said, his breath fast and shallow. "Couch."

Becker twisted them around, nudging Stephen until he fell back against the soft material of the couch. Becker had chosen it specifically so it was suitable for sleeping on, as well as sitting on for hours, knowing his habit of falling asleep during films. Never had he been more grateful that he'd avoided the black leather sofa the salesman had tried to push on him. 

He dropped to his knees in front of Stephen, pushing the man's legs apart so he could lean up for another kiss. There was no subtlety between them, no cute romantic shyness, so when Stephen started to unfasten his own jeans, his intentions couldn't have been mistaken. He slid them down to his knees and Becker leaned back, pulling them off the rest of the way. Becker licked his lips at the sight of Stephen's rock hard erection pressing against the white briefs.

He ran his hands over Stephen's thighs, feeling the hard muscles that tightened with each stroke. He leaned in close, his mouth over the outline of Stephen's cock, breathing deeply, the cotton already damp. He lifted his eyes to watch Stephen's flushed face, a small smile on his lips. As his fingers slipped under the elastic of the briefs, Stephen's breath hitched, his hips pushing up instinctively towards Becker's mouth.

"Please."

The word was quiet, almost whispered, but Becker heard the pleading in Stephen's voice. In one smooth movement, he tugged the briefs down, discarding them to one side, before moving his lips to cover the head of Stephen's cock. 

"Oh god, yes." Stephen's hands went to Becker's head, not pushing or forcing, just holding on, as though anchoring them together. Becker opened his mouth further, his tongue licking the smooth silkiness even as he began to move his head back and forward, taking Stephen into his mouth a fraction further each time. 

His hands were still on Stephen's thighs, his fingers digging hard enough that he knew there would be bruises there later. Becker felt a surge of electricity run through him when he realised that when Stephen saw them later on, he'd be able to remember the feel of Becker's mouth on him. Relaxing his throat, Becker took as much of Stephen as he could, hearing a muffled groan from the other man. He looked up and saw Stephen with his head thrown back, one hand still on the nape of Becker's neck, the other gripping the arm of the sofa. His mouth was open, his face even more flushed, and Becker had the urge to try and fix the image in his mind forever. 

Instead, he swallowed deeply once more, wanting to give Stephen the release that he so desperately needed and deserved. In moments, he felt Stephen's body tense and he pulled himself back just far enough that he could swallow without choking. 

Stephen came without a sound, biting into the flesh of his own arm, while Becker kept his mouth around his cock, licking and swallowing gently, easing Stephen through the orgasm. 

With one final lick around the head of Stephen's cock, making the other man shudder, Becker rocked back on his heels.

"Tension relieved?" he asked with a smile, licking his lips, relishing the taste and hoping that this wasn't just a one off situation. There was something about Stephen that he liked, a lot.

Stephen didn't move other than to drop his arm back to his side. His eyes were still closed, but he forced them open to look at Becker. "Fuck yeah," he replied, his breathing still ragged. With obvious effort, he reached his arm out and patted the seat next to him. Becker stood up from his crouch, silently cursing the ache in his knees, and settled next to Stephen, their bodies pressed against each other from shoulder to thigh.

"Gotta make something clear though," Stephen mumbled and Becker felt his heart sink. This was the _this is just a one-time thing, it doesn't mean anything_ talk. He wouldn't push it, of course, but if this was the end, he was bloody well going to make sure he made the most of it before Stephen left.

When he didn't reply, Stephen tilted his head towards Becker, resting it on his shoulder, snuggling closer. His hand reached into Becker's, fingers interlinking. "I am _not_ calling you Becker when we're in bed together. You're really going to have to tell me your first name."

Becker relaxed, warmth spreading through his body, grateful that Stephen seemed to want the same thing as him. 

"You could always call me Captain," he replied, leaning over and kissing the top of Stephen's head.


End file.
